


All That is Yours

by stardropdream (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio and Lovino meet again after the second great war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ January 5, 2012. 
> 
> Written with the prompt "Spain and Romano meet after WWII".

He’d grown. That was the first thing Antonio noticed. It made him smile. Lovino’s face wasn’t as rounded anymore, but more defined, with sharper edges. His eyes seemed harder, and, much to Antonio’s regret, sadder. Perhaps their eyes matched more now.  
  
“You look well,” he said, quietly, smiling despite himself—almost feeling giddy.   
  
Lovino’s frown deepened and, with them, the worry lines in his face deepened, too—he looked infinitely too old, now. No longer a child. It was a strange transformation. Antonio had held Lovino’s image in his mind for so long that, seeing him now, years later, still felt strange.   
  
“You look like shit,” Lovino snapped back, and looked away.  
  
Antonio’s smile softened, and his laugh didn’t sound quite as sad as it tended to nowadays.   
  
“Will you walk with me?” he asked, instead of what he really wanted to ask.  
  
Lovino didn’t respond, but he moved swiftly, standing beside Antonio. They walked together, through Antonio’s dilapidated garden. Everywhere they walked, Antonio remembered haunted ghosts and the wrench of scars across his home, across his own body. He knew better than to let on and, for once, Lovino seemed solemn and quiet.   
  
“I missed you,” Antonio said quietly.  
  
Lovino looked up at him sharply, as if pleading for silence, unable to backtrack quickly enough. Antonio stopped walking. Lovino stopped, too, his brow furrowing as he stared up at Antonio—  
  
His face was far too old, now. Far older than it should have been. He looked like everybody else, now. Someone who knew war and poverty too young. But hadn’t Lovino always known it? Perhaps this was the first time that, truly, it had sunk in for him.   
  
“I did,” Antonio said, refusing to back down.  
  
“Idiot,” Lovino said, and his voice was thick. He squeezed his jaw shut, and the muscles in his face danced as he restrained himself. Antonio’s eyes traced the sharp line of Lovino’s jaw.   
  
“I guess so,” Antonio said with a laugh because, really, what else could he say?   
  
Lovino scowled. So perhaps he’d said the wrong thing.  
  
He lifted his hand and touched Lovino’s forehead, pushing aside the hair, letting his fingers tangle in his bangs for a moment and linger. For once, Lovino let him. For once, Lovino didn’t say anything—just closed his eyes. He still looked frustrated, still looked angry, but he didn’t protest.   
  
“Did you miss me?” Antonio asked.  
  
“Shouldn’t you have been worrying about yourself?” Lovino muttered.  
  
Antonio laughed, and hated the touch of bitterness that snuck into the chuckle. Antonio feels the fraying of his nerves. He tries to hold on desperately.   
  
“I spent this entire war worrying about myself, Lovi. It didn’t do me much good, in the end.” Instinctively, his hand fell away from Lovino’s forehead to touch at his own body, press down into his hip, as if doing so would banish all the scars and wounds scraping over him. Only now just beginning to heal.   
  
Lovino’s frown deepened further—Antonio didn’t realize it could get any more pronounced.  
  
“You have too many worry-lines,” he said, quietly. “You shouldn’t frown so much.”  
  
“Do you think I should be fucking smiling?” Lovino snapped. “I’m not you, asshole.”  
  
Antonio laughed.  
  
“It’s not funny.”  
  
“I know,” Antonio said with a sigh, and dropped his hand away from his torso. Both hung heavily at his sides. He didn’t know what to say, now. Lovino seemed so far away. “Is it bad that I missed you?”  
  
“Do what you want, asshole,” Lovino muttered and started walking again. Antonio followed him.   
  
They walked in silence for a while.   
  
“When it was all like this,” Antonio told Lovino’s back, voice soft, “I didn’t feel whole. I was split in two, Lovi. It was as if I wasn’t anything. But you remind me better than anyone else of who I am.”  
  
He folded his hands behind his back, and smiled up at the sky. He almost bumped into Lovino when he stopped suddenly, but instead he laughed—this time, sounding more genuine—and swept around him, ducking to see his face, for Lovino was refusing to look up now.  
  
“So when you say that I should be thinking of myself—maybe you’re right. Thinking about you is like remembering myself all over again. It’s reassuring.”  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Lovino said quietly.   
  
Antonio just smiled.   
  
“Don’t be upset,” Antonio soothed gently, hand falling to the crook of Lovino’s elbow, fingers splaying across his skin there. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”  
  
“I’m always fucking unhappy because you’re a fucking dumbass,” Lovino snapped, lifting his chin defiantly. “What the fuck are you even talking about? Thinking about me is like thinking about yourself? Bullshit! It’s because you’re such a damn oblivious dreamer that shit keeps happening to you, to the point where you’re tearing yourself apart and—and—”  
  
Abruptly, he cut himself off and looked away with a scoff. Antonio blinked, stunned for a moment, before feeling himself laugh—laughing because, what else could he do but that?  
  
“Don’t do that,” Lovino muttered. “You look like you’re in pain when you do.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Antonio said quietly, stepping closer and slumping, head resting against Lovino’s shoulder. Again, Lovino did not protest the touch. “I upset you again.”  
  
“It happens all the time when you do and say stupid shit,” Lovino muttered, but the venom had fallen from his voice. He shifted, arms wrapping slowly around Antonio. If asked, he would probably deny it was a hug, but his touch was gentle enough that, even as his large hands (so much larger than Antonio remembered) rested against hardening scars, Antonio didn’t even flinch.   
  
Well, maybe only a little.   
  
“Tch,” Lovino muttered.  
  
Antonio smiled, despite himself. “I’ve had many battles and many wars, Lovi, and I’m still here. Maybe you worry too much.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean that you should just let these things happen.”  
  
“I didn’t,” Antonio whispered quietly.   
  
“Whatever,” Lovino dismissed, sighing out.   
  
So Antonio clung to Lovino with all his might, arms wrapping tight around him and holding him close, refusing to let go. Lovino let out a short grunt in surprise, but otherwise didn’t say anything—just let Antonio cling tight to him.   
  
“Idiot,” Lovino muttered and, perhaps, there was a touch of affection to it.


End file.
